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My heart squeezed, bracing.
“But there, inside that room.” The Soldier pointed. “Is a thermobaric bomb. Chester was going to kill you. He built the perfect bomb, a blast so intense it will obliterate the Nightmare King.”
“And Val?” My voice broke.
“The explosion will rival the heat of a small sun.” The Soldier smiled in sympathy. “We’veneverhad this chance before. The creatures will hold him there, without letting him die until the bomb explodes. They sacrifice themselves.”
I didn’t care about the martyrs, but I didn’t say.
“We all have our role to play. We need you alive, Zara. We are the last Stitchers. The very last. As a gesture of good faith, I give you these eyeglasses so that you can find what you need while you learn.”
“Could he really do anything? This Nightmare King?”
“I realize you lack all of the Cucitrice, but I believe her memories will come back. Soon you will see for yourself. Unfortunately, we don’t have the luxury of time. Our moment is now. The nightmare creatures are organizing, waiting for him to return.”
I didn’t need the memories. In my heart I knew The Soldier wasn’t lying.
I sniffed, dropped the barrel of my gun, and took the offering, put the eyeglasses in my pocket.
The Soldier gaze shifted. “How long, Chester?”
“One minute, thirty-five seconds,” the Chester-creature answered from behind me.
My heart began pounding down the seconds.
“Come.” The Soldier held out her hand for me to take. “We must run.”
“There is always a way.” My words were mumbled.
“What?”
“There is always a way.” Val had said that. They hadn’t even tried to save him. In my book, that didn’t put them on the side of good.
I raised the gun and shot The Soldier.
Twice.
Double tap—neck then head. Blood sprayed, hitting my cheek. The Soldier collapsed onto the floor. The immortal would return, but not here.
I was already swinging, aiming at Chester. “Give me the code.”
Chester shook his head, unperturbed. “Go. Run. You killed the only other Stitcher. You must go. We need you to survive. You cannot save him.”
“I hope you go to hell.” I put a bullet in his chest.
A slower death.
I told myself it was because I needed time inside his head.
The real Chester had to be in there somewhere.
Falling to my knees, next to him I grabbed his temples and concentrated, reaching for his mind as it walked between life and death in that dream state.
“You don’t get to win.” More sob than hiss.
There.
Memories of murders hit me, somehow flung by the creature as if to deter her. Damien, Yvaine... I wrenched back a sob and swarmed past them, went deeper.
